


French Kissing

by Imnotweirdjustwriting



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: French class shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imnotweirdjustwriting/pseuds/Imnotweirdjustwriting
Summary: French class is a lawless land and David Jacobs knows this better than all.





	French Kissing

**Author's Note:**

> There’s no french kissing in this

There were quite a few things Davey looked forward to in French class. It was a class he technically shouldn’t even be in, considering he was already fluent in French. He was allowed to pick it up as a second elective and tested easily into the highest level where the rest of his friends were. Unlike his friends he enjoyed the actual learning part of class. 

It was the complete anarchy of their class that excited him the most, though. He ended half of his days in the school year packed into the largest classroom in the school surrounded by complete mayhem. It was exhilarating. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d even learned anything. They usually ended up watching a movie or playing games till school was over. 

Today was no different. Davey walked into class five minutes early, enjoying the calm before the storm. He sat down in his usual seat, near the back with enough room for Jack and Race to sit by him. 

People trickled in as the clock ticked on, Jack and Race stumbling in at the last minute, already laughing and shoving each other. Race sank gratefully into the seat next to Davey, beaming at him as Jack clumsily sat in front of Davey. 

“Bonjour, Davey,” Race said, clearly proud of himself for remembering the word for hello. 

“Salut, Race. Comment ça va?” Davey answered. He was trying to keep it basic enough for Race to follow. 

Race couldn’t follow. “Jack,” he fake whispered. “What does comment ça va mean?”

Jack made a face. “How are you? I think, je ne sais pas.”

Race looked at him blankly.

“I don’t know,” Jack clarified. 

Race turned back to Davey. “I’m good.”

They quieted as Madame shushed the class, focusing on her for the first few minutes. She handed out a game and told them to play it for a half hour. Jack and Race didn’t even try. They cheated and stole pieces and yelled until the game was over, hardly uttering a single word of French the entire time.

The rest of the class was in a similar state of disarray. Finch and Albert seemed to have made their game into a version of strip poker, as they were both sitting on top of their desks shirtless. Specs and Henry were sword fighting with meter sticks, dramatically faking their deaths each time they were hit. Madame wasn’t even fazed. 

“David,” she called from her desk. “Can you put the crepe supplies in the closet for me?” 

Davey nodded, catching the keys as she tossed them to him. The crepe stuff was balanced between Finch and Albert, spared so far from their antics. Davey scooped it up, carefully unlocking the closet. 

Race and Jack appeared at his side, clearly up to no good. 

“We are locking ourselves in here,” Jack told Davey. 

Race finished opening the closet, pulling Jack and Davey inside and shutting the door behind them. It locked from the outside which meant no one could save Davey from Jack or Race. 

“Now what?” Davey asked, flipping the lights on in the closet to look around. It was lined with shelves, each one with another weird thing on it. 

Race took the crepe supplies from Davey and put them on the correct shelf. “Check it out, sprinkles.”

He pulled out a bag of assorted sprinkles, shaking one of the bottles out into his palm. He threw them back with zero hesitation, crunching on them with a grimace. 

“They’re really old,” he explained. 

Jack and Davey both held their hands out, accepting the sprinkles Race gave them. Davey mimicked Race and tossed them all into his mouth. He almost gagged, choking on the dust that seemed to fill his mouth. They could hardly even be called sprinkles at this point, just little balls of hard dust. 

“That’s gross,” Jack told Race. He rummaged through the shelves, pulling out a box of bottled water. 

“We could live in here,” Race said in awe. “We have water and food.”

“And clothes,” Davey added, pointing to a box stuffed full of t-shirts. 

Jack was looking around the closet like he had found his utopia. “This place is incredible. Look at all the stuff Madame keeps back here. There’s French films, water, sprinkles, clothing, so many textbooks,” he gestured towards a huge bookcase stacked nearly to the ceiling with French books. 

“Oh, dude, you could totally make out with someone in here,” Race said confidently. 

Jack nodded, his eyes bright. “Look at all the space! No one can get in, plus if you’re behind the bookshelf it’s not like anyone can see you.”

“Is there even space back there?” Davey asked. He carefully maneuvered his way around boxes to reach the bookcase. There was a surprisingly large space between the bookshelf and the wall. “Nice, come look,” he said to Jack and Race. 

Jack reached him first, excitedly ducking behind the shelf. “Check it out, you can sit here,” he patted on a stack of books. 

Davey stepped behind the shelf with Jack. He pushed Jack against the wall with a grin, leaning in like they were going to kiss. Jack was laughing, holding Davey close, clearly playing along. 

“Race, can you see us?” Davey asked. 

Race, who seemed to have been distracted by something on one of the shelves, answered from out of sight. “Can’t see a thing.”

Jack moved to put his hand in Davey’s hair, grinning at him. “How about now?” He asked. 

Davey didn’t hear Race respond. Jack used the hand in his hair to tug him closer, kissing him suddenly. Davey was frozen, leaning against Jack, his hands gripping Jack’s shoulders. Jack broke off from the kiss, laughing as he looked around.

“You can do whatever you want in here,” he said smiling. 

Davey felt like he was going to be sick, his heart was pounding so hard. He moved away from Jack, letting him out from behind the shelf. Davey followed him, joining Race where he was opening a box of markers. 

“What are you doing?” Davey asked him in a voice he hoped was casual. 

“Writing a note. I’m gonna push it under the door and see if one of the boys responds.”

He scribbled ‘HEY’ onto a paper towel with a green marker, taping it carefully to the end of a meter stick. They all watched eagerly as he pushed it under the door. He wiggled it around, trying to catch someone’s attention. No one noticed. Race pulled it back in, looking defeated. 

“Give them an offering,” Jack suggested. 

Davey picked a feather up off the floor, handing it to Race. “Try this.”

Race taped it on, pushing the ruler back out. This time someone grabbed it. 

“Davey?” Finch asked from outside the closet. The handle of the door shook like he was trying to open it. “Did you lock yourself in?”

Jack swore. “Busted.”

“We should leave,” Davey said. 

Race sighed, leaning his meter stick against a shelf. “Fine. You guys are no fun.”

Davey opened the closet carefully, slipping out with Jack and Race behind him. 

“You all were in there??” Albert asked, a little bit in shock. “Madame didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” Madame said from her desk. “I figured they would be fine.” 

Jack laughed loudly, his smile blinding. Davey couldn’t look away from him. He sank heavily into his seat, barely listening as Madame explained a new project to the class. He couldn’t stop looking at Jack. Jack, who didn’t seem to be thinking about the kiss at all. 

Davey wanted to drop his head on his desk and cry. Instead he recited french conjugations in his head as a distraction. 

He considered dropping French for a moment. He wouldn’t have to deal with any of the chaos ever again. He stopped thinking that right away. French class was mayhem, but he loved it.

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever actually write an ending? No.


End file.
